


Safe Passage

by daniko



Series: HP/SS: Wartime [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Gen, Morally Ambiguous Character, Veela Fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 23:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3707547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniko/pseuds/daniko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Severus knew that the Draught of Safe Passage was effective in suppressing the most abhorrent aspects of Veela magic. Magic was often harnessed in biology. If you changed the biology, you changed the magic… barring, of course, traumatic events.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe Passage

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “Harry finds it harder and harder to go back to the Dursleys every year. It feels like they hate him more each year. Last year he didn’t feel good all summer, but this year it is debilitating. Harry thinks they might be poisoning him, but it turns out that he is developing Empathy powers and they have been growing as he nears his Veela inheritance”.

On the night of September 30th , 1981, it was raining in both Muggle and Wizarding London. This would have been an irrelevant fact, if it was not the perfect finish to a gloomy picture: beyond the eyes of Muggle workaholics exchanging their high-end offices for their empty homes, stood the crooked silhouette of a rundown Wizarding neighborhood. It was the kind of place where you didn’t go unless you had no choice. The stench of decay clung to the walls like a second, sometimes first coat of paint.  
****

It wasn’t the place for the beginning of a nice tale, but this Prince’s tale was not a nice one.

In the second story of a sinuous building, in the closest corner to Muggle London, there was an open window with no curtains. It gave way to a cramped room, with barely any space for the slacking bed and camping stove. A cardboard box took the place of a desk. There was a nightshirt peaking out of a leather trunk – old, but of fine quality – and a burned out oil-lamp on top. Stacks upon stacks of books littered the floor.

A young man in his early twenties sat on the bed, his back bent to his thighs as he burrowed his rather large nose in the dusty manuscript resting on the makeshift desk. Strands of dirty hair curtained his face, almost keeping out the light coming from the single candle next to him. It should be a well-worn position because the young man stood as still as the grave as he read.

> **_VEELA_ **
> 
> M.O.M. Classification: XXXXX
> 
> Veela are a species of rational, cognizant magical creatures that can take human form. In particular, the female of the species takes the form of exceedingly beautiful women for the purpose of ensnaring the hearts and minds of wizards—

Severus Snape had to take a moment to appreciate Scamander’s need to excuse himself. Severus was much less charitable. In his opinion, wizards had no one but themselves to blame for acting like besotted cretins...

> Veela are thought to be of Slavic ancestry, which accounts for their usual form in Great Britain and Central Europe: blonde and blue-eyed women, with typical Slavic/Eastern-European features. However, Veela can be found in all countries, cultures and ethnicities. They live in notoriously private communities and usually dwell in woods and forests.
> 
> In their true form, Veela take an almost chimerical form, with avian faces and wings, but a human body. If a single hair of a Veela’s head is plucked, they will die or return to their true shape.
> 
> The registry of such Veela-like creatures goes as far back as the classical empires of Greece (Sirens) and Egypt (Sphinx). Both Sirens and the Sphinx are chthonic and mantic creatures. Therefore, it can be argued that Veela might observe their mythical counterparts’ attributes. In fact, their hypnotic dance is a simile to a Siren’s song, a disclosure of death and corruption, and so is the harsh Sphinx-like judgment that follows the weakness of wizards.
> 
> Veela are both a trial and a benediction—

Come to think of it, Severus was not sure Scamander had written the text in full soundness of mind. It might explain why he had to be… _persuaded_ to part with the text by Severus and a few of his new acquaintances, if he didn’t feel it was up to the standards of his one masterpiece. Severus had worked with the man before, during the progress of his Mastery, so he knew of Scamander’s impeccable work ethics: a Hufflepuff, if there ever was one.

It was more or less due to Scamander’s tutelage – Salazar knew it hadn’t been thanks to Slughorn! – that Severus was able to pursue and complete the Draught of Safe Passage, which had earned him his Mastery, a feature article in Potions Quarterly and allowed him to take a teaching position at Hogwarts with minimal suspicion from the Board of Governors. After all, he was just one more of Albus Dumbledore’s charity cases… Ha!

Regardless of how thankful Severus was for Scamander’s own charity, he had coveted Scamander’s most prized possession: a half-century old manuscript reporting Scamander’s time in Bulgaria with a local community of Veela. He knew of its contents because he had needed to for his thesis and Scamander had obliged, but he had never seen it. Until tonight.

> Grass grows where they dance. The soil grows fertile. The Slavic Veela are said to have both healing and prophetic powers when they pledge themselves to a wizard. They can be wooed with gifts such as food, ribbons, fresh fruit, vegetables and flowers left at sacred sites. The devotion of a Veela is akin to a Unicorn’s trust. Their wrath may shake the Earth itself. They will kill any man who betrays his word, so cross their path if you dare. However, if you win the heart of a Veela… good things will follow.

How helpful. Severus now had more questions than when he began… Were spontaneously occurring Veela possible? If so, was their magic passed off to the offspring? Would either the spontaneously-born Veela or the offspring have full Veela powers?

Severus knew that the Draught of Safe Passage was effective in suppressing the most abhorrent aspects of Veela magic. Magic was often harnessed in biology. If you changed the biology, you changed the magic… barring, of course, traumatic events. Magic, or rather, Essence held true when one needed it to, as all Mudblood children could attest to, or else they wouldn’t exist. The Ministry had, naturally, been oh so thankful to Severus for the opportunity – the excuse – to suggest the registration and monitor the activity of yet another so-called minority.

Severus didn’t doubt his prowess or competence. He just wanted to know if a spontaneously-born Veela’s magic would hold true against a wizard’s… If their heavenly grace, their devotion to their wizard-mate, their healing and prophetic, ensnaring powers would hold true against the wrong side of a Killing Curse.

Severus Snape would have his answer soon enough. He would not like it.

 

I.

Sixteen years later, in a night with fairer weather, the young man called Severus Snape, who had been sitting in a dingy room complaining about the stupidity of people, became a man sitting in the Headmaster’s office in one of the world’s most prestigious magical schools… and he was still complaining about people’s stupidity.

In an astounding display of devotion, and foolishness, Dumbledore had gone personally to retrieve Potter from his abusive relatives, and _then_ remained with the boy while he received medical attention. Not that Potter would appreciate it. There were still bits of shattered glass on the carpet of Dumbledore’s office, from Potter’s little tantrum at the end of the school year, that could prove it. Severus could hear it crunch beneath his boots. “You cannot possibly be considering catering to that boy’s whims in this, Headmaster! He is unbelievable! As I’ve told you time and time again—.”

“Now, Severus,” Dumbledore admonished, “I’m afraid the blame falls entirely on me in this situation.”

Severus just barely refrained from scoffing. Oh, he knew the blame fell on Dumbledore. Everything in this world was Dumbledore’s fault. As if the Headmaster would have it any other way. So, no, Severus didn’t doubt the veracity of the statement. What he did doubt, however, was Potter’s exemption of blame. Of course, Potter would feel entitled not to have to deal with his abusive guardians… of course Potter would feel entitled to be rescued! No one else would have that privilege, but of course Saint Potter would—.

“Poppy believes the traumatic circumstances of June have triggered his Veela inheritance.”

Abruptly brought back from his angry musings, Severus felt his blood run cold. “What?”

“Sirius Black’s death may have triggered Harry’s more basal instincts.”

“No, that’s not—Veela inheritance, you say?”

It was unlikely, but not impossible, that Potter would have inherited his mother’s… special condition. The possibility had even occurred to Severus back when he had been at the outset of his Veela studies. Now, sixteen years of study and research later, Severus was not surprised. Oh, but didn’t it grate on his nerves to think that the oaf had inherited his mother’s grace! It also explained how everyone in this godforsaken school fawned over that underachieving child.

With a despicable amount of kindness, Dumbledore added, “I’ve told you before; Harry takes after his mother more and more each day.” He got up. “We have settled the boy in the Infirmary until suitable rooms can be arranged.”

Absently, Severus asked, “Why not the Gryffindor Tower? Surely Minerva would keep an eye on him.”

“They are such large quarters for just one person. Not to mention devoid of his friends’ company, as he surely has gotten used to. I’m afraid it would only do more harm than good to isolate him. I was hoping that, amongst the Order, we could find someone to take care of him for the summer. Without the Weasleys, the task becomes difficult.”

“They are still under surveillance, I take it?”

“Yes. Besides, we cannot trust such good people to keep a secret for long.” Dumbledore tittered. “Such is the flaw of the righteous. You can never trust honest people to know when to keep quiet. Alas, we have not yet found anyone else who Harry can abide for long periods of time.”

“Not even yourself?”

A shadow passed over Dumbledore’s eyes. Snape barely restrained himself from rolling his. “Especially not myself.” How sad, that Dumbledore would have a falling out with his precious protégé. Severus barely prevented a smirk. When Dumbledore turned his razor-sharp eyes on him, Severus felt a chill run down his spine. Oh, no! “I was kind of hoping you would give it a try.”

Not even for Merlin himself. No. “No.”

A mischievous light entered Dumbledore’s eyes. “Severus. We have reason to believe you would be a fantastic match for Harry—.”

“Excuse me? A fantastic _match_?”

“Don’t look so horrified, my boy! That’s not what I meant… I simply recall an instance where you were the only one who could approach a feral Veela. If you hadn’t supplied Lily with the Draught of Safe Passage when she found out James had enlisted in the Order, who knows what might have happened to either of them… Even then, I had wondered if perhaps she had made a mistake in her choice of lover.”

It had been almost twenty years since he had put his wand to Tobias’ head and told him to vanish from Spinner’s End, so Severus had almost forgotten what it felt like to be punched in the stomach. One could always count on Dumbledore to say the worst possible thing in the best possible time. Only a decade and a half of practice in dealing with Dumbledore’s particular brand of emotional manipulation prevented Severus from standing up and leaving.

Instead, he said, as blandly as he could, “You know she couldn’t stand me after developing her empathic abilities.”

It was the truth. The incident with the Levicorpus spell was not the beginning of their falling out. It was rather the end. Lily had never really been comfortable around Severus after they left their childhood years. The bitter taste of betrayal and shame was almost as familiar to Severus as his nose. Why would someone as celestial as Lily welcome his jealous feelings?

“Naturally, that begs the question of exactly why are you immune to Veela charms.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m as bent as you are, Albus.”

Dumbledore’s eyes lit up with humor. “Perhaps, though I must say I’m not quite as immune to Veela charms as you think I am.”

Now there was something Severus could have done well without hearing.

“Say that I agree to give Potter the draught? What, then? Is he going back to his relatives?”

“I’m afraid not. Harry became very anxious in their presence, not to mention slightly paranoid. With all the havoc Harry has been causing in his relatives house—,” each time the Muggle pigs got too close, Severus surmised from Dumbledore’s stony features, “—and so soon after last year’s trial, you can imagine why I want to keep this quiet. So far, Kingsley has been able to steer the Ministry’s attention elsewhere. We might just have found the silver lining in Voldemort’s appearance in London this past summer.”

Severus could think of another one, such as getting rid of the bane of his existence, but he didn’t think Dumbledore would appreciate his reasoning.

“And how is—?” Severus stopped himself, but from the triumphant look in Dumbledore’s eyes, he supposed it was too late.

“The boy?” Dumbledore asked, proving once again that Severus’ had stepped into hell when he left his mother’s womb all those long thirty-six years ago. “More debilitated than he is letting on, I suspect. I would like you to see him, to assess whether or not he’s eligible to take the draught. You’re sure you won’t take him—no? Well, then. Spontaneously-born Veela are rather unpredictable, even for a Mediwitch as competent as Poppy Pomfrey… but not for someone of your Mastery, of course.”

Dumbledore must be desperate if he was resorting to flattery. Severus nodded, for several reasons, not the least of which was because he wanted to see the creature the boy had become. Would he have flaming hair as red as Lily’s in her feral form?

 

II.

Alas, no. Severus had to curb the pain of disappointment when Poppy pointed at Harry through the one-way glass surrounding the isolation room. The boy didn’t even look feral, just the right amount of disinterested to seem like Severus had asked him to read a chapter of his Potions textbook in silence. It was an expression Severus was well acquainted with.

On a closer look, however, there seemed to be a surreal quality to him: a certain kind of presence that hadn’t been there before. The boy’s head turned when Severus and Dumbledore entered the Infirmary, even though he couldn’t have possibly seen them. The boy beyond the glass wall seemed to be more alert than the usual oblivious and distracted Potter.

Despite not appearing feral, Potter looked worse than Severus had ever seen him. He was thinner than when he had left Hogwarts almost two months ago, which was saying something, and there were deep bags under his eyes, more pronounced than the insomniac little cretin would usually sport. Even with his almost iridescent jewel eyes, Potter was not a pretty sight. It was unusual, as in _unheard of_ , but Severus felt a pang of sympathy break through his customary derision.

With Poppy’s permission, Dumbledore touched the glass wall and immediately Potter’s eyes sought them. When he noticed Severus, Potter bristled like a cat and his lips pursed in disgruntlement. Also in a very feline-like fashion, Potter then made a show of turning his back on Severus and focusing on Dumbledore and Poppy. Severus had to admit he rather preferred Potter huffing and puffing in irritation to his usual egocentric and entitled self.

“Hello, Harry,” greeted Dumbledore. “How are you feeling?”

Of course, Potter forgot the fact that to ignore Severus he must focus on Dumbledore.

“Bored,” the boy answered petulantly.

Severus snorted at Dumbledore’s amusement. The boy had the greatest wizard of their time wrapped around his little finger, didn’t he?

Dumbledore spared Severus a warning look, before saying to Potter, “Do you remember what we talked about earlier? I don’t think you were feeling well at the time…” Dumbledore trailed off when Potter’s face lost some of its color. After a moment, the boy nodded. “Spontaneously-born Veela are something of a peculiarity, Harry. I’m afraid that the circumstances being what they are, we need to make sure you continue to be fit to attend school.”

Potter nodded as if he expected nothing else, but Severus, who was no stranger to Dumbledore’s negligence, was appalled by it. Severus had been on the end of this kind of dismissal more often than he cared to admit, but to see Potter accept his situation without the belligerence Severus was familiar with didn’t sit right with him.

The thought had just crossed his mind, when Potter’s eyes shifted briefly to Severus and back to Dumbledore. Since Severus’ survival depended more often than not on him being able to identify the Dark Lord’s minute changes of heart, he was more than able to detect the flash of surprise in Potter’s eyes, before they had turned elsewhere. He put it aside to consider later.

Apparently oblivious, although Severus knew he was anything but, Dumbledore continued, “Many years ago, Professor Snape created a potion called the Draught of Safe Passage. It helps Veela, especially half-Veela, to keep closer control over their abilities, allowing them to live among Wizarding folk.” A smile graced his lips. “As we talked a few weeks back, wizards and witches become nervous when intelligent creatures don’t look like them.”

Potter’s brow creased. “This potion, would it help me get rid of these thoughts?”

Severus wondered what kind of thoughts Potter had picked up so far. Dumbledore should have never let the situation get this far. Lily had suffered immensely around her sister after she reached puberty and started developing her emphatic abilities. It was one of the reasons Severus never expected Potter to have inherited his mother’s grace – the right time to manifest had come and gone with barely a hitch from that quarter. One could only wonder what Potter had endured around Petunia Evans and the bastard she had chosen as a mate.

“I expect so,” said Dumbledore. “Professor Snape will take a look at your medical situation and see if there is anything we can do.”

“Will I have to be around him?”

Ungrateful boy!

Only Dumbledore’s hand on his arm prevented Snape from losing his temper. “Only for a moment, Harry. It’s unavoidable. Professor Snape will have to perform a quick magical scan like Madam Pomfrey did earlier.” Dumbledore glanced at Snape. “Severus? Now would be better than later.” He was likely afraid that Potter was going to throw a fit.

Severus’ displeasure was probably flowing from him in visible waves, but he gritted his teeth and touched his wand to the entryway of the room. He stood in the antechamber for the magical cleansing as still as he could, before stepping into the isolation room.

While Severus waited, Potter had moved into the farthest corner of the room like a wounded animal and was standing with his back to the wall, eyes wary and body tense, as if he was preparing for an attack. Severus supposed that, in a way and considering the effect his Muggle relatives seemed to have on him, Potter probably was. Occasionally, not often, Severus could admit that Potter had rather gotten the short end of the stick. He fought the urge to say something comforting as he skimmed through Poppy’s medical report on Potter. There was nothing Severus hadn’t expected.

Just a few seconds later, when he looked up again, he half expected Potter to be as skittish as Lily had been around Severus, his eyes as accusing as hers had become, only to almost drop Poppy’s file at the sight that greeted him. Far from looking uncomfortable or in pain, Potter looked astonished. There was a healthy flush in his cheeks and a queer gleam in his eyes. He was stiller than Severus had ever remembered seeing him in five years of acquaintance.

The isolation room was stark and small, with only one bed in the centre and a small desk where Poppy’s report had rested, so it took Potter about three steps to cross from one side to Severus. “Hum,” Potter started gracelessly.

Severus blinked at him, leaning back. Potter had gotten awfully close. “Potter?”

“Hum,” Potter said again, unblinking eyes fixed on Severus.

Helplessly, Severus turned to Dumbledore, trying to make sense of anything, only to find Dumbledore staring at Harry with all his mind-reading focus. “Harry? Harry, are you feeling all right?”

Potter sighed, “Yes,” looking about to crumble to the ground in relief. “I feel fine. My head feels fine and I don’t feel nauseous at all, Professor.” Potter’s eyes didn’t leave Severus as he took a step closer. Severus bravely resisted the urge to take a step back, reminding himself that he didn’t allow himself to do so in front of the Dark Lord, he wasn’t about to do so with _Potter_. “I thought—you know, I don’t think you hate me, Professor,” Potter said at last, almost casually. For a moment, his eyes flashed gold.

Distracted by the fact, it took Severus a few seconds to register Potter’s words. He blinked. What? “What?” he asked, but Potter had already retreated to the bed and slumped down on the mattress, looking in dire need for rest. Severus found himself saying, not quite as waspishly as he intended, “You can go to sleep, Mr. Potter, if—.”

“Oh, thanks,” Potter sighed in relief. He lied down and put his feet up, yawning widely. “Stay until I fall asleep, okay, Professor?” Severus sputtered. “I’ve not felt this good in days, even after they put me here…” A moment later, Potter was breathing softly.

In the days that followed, Severus found himself returning to the memory of that evening often as he brewed the Draught of Safe Passage.

It defied reason that Severus, whose feelings for Potter and his parentage were of great complexity, could inspire a sense of serenity in Potter as a maturing Veela. In fact, Severus couldn’t quite remove himself from the expression on Potter’s face after Severus entered the room. He didn’t think he had ever seen someone feel such pleasure in his presence.

However, Severus had a task to perform and that was what he needed to focus on.

Three nights later, Severus returned to the Infirmary, as had been agreed upon with Dumbledore, but he went after hours, which had not. In the darkness of the isolation room, Potter sat up when Severus crossed the Infirmary to the quarantine area. At his movement, the candles flickered on, leaving both Severus and Potter bathed in a rather striking light. Severus could feel Potter’s eyes on him as he suffered the magical cleansing and stepped into the room.

Potter remained sitting on the bed as he offered, “Madam Pomfrey already went to bed.”

“Madam Pomfrey is not needed for the purpose of my visit,” Severus retorted, heading for the desk on the far side of the room. He put down the goblet in his hands. It was made of clear crystal, tinted lilac by the steaming potion inside. “Do you recall the potion Professor Dumbledore mentioned a few days ago? The Draught of Safe Passage?”

Potter nodded, staring at the liquid. “It’s pink.”

Severus prayed for patience against the stupidity of people. “Lilac.” Seeing as Potter was fixed on the potion, Severus explained, trying to take advantage of Potter’s short attention span, “The maturation of Veela follows a few strict phases, the first of which starts in puberty and consists of the development of empathic and mantic, or prophetic, abilities. In short, they’re why you can predict the trajectory of the Snitch so well.”

Potter’s stare snapped to Severus. “I don’t—.”

“Some things are innate, Mr Potter. You share your mother’s Veela inheritance. You are Veela and Veela is you. It’s not cheating,” Severus interrupted with a roll of his eyes. Gryffindors. Potter smiled self-deprecatingly. Severus refused to feel charmed. “Mixed Veela and Veela who chose to live among Wizarding folk—,” or are forced to, Severus thought to himself, “—often find it hard to control the onslaught of neighboring feelings and thoughts. You, apparently, find it harder than most.” Of course he did. “The Draught of Safe Passage allows for a seamless maturation, suppressing the harsher aspects of Veela inheritance.”

“Does that mean it’s going to suppress aspects of who I am, sir?”

Severus resisted the urge to smile in triumph. He replied seriously, “Yes.”

Potter hesitated and Severus held his breath. After a moment, Potter glanced up at Severus. There was an uncertainty there that Severus had glimpsed last time. Dumbledore had decided that, for the greater good, Potter should take the potion. Potter, being familiar with the consideration Dumbledore showed for the choices of others in spite of The Greater Good, didn’t want to. And who would?

Potter looked at Severus as if he was searching for guidance. “Professor? What do you think?”

Now there was a heady thought, having Harry Potter ask Severus Snape for advice. Severus felt almost lightheaded with the feeling of a plot well executed. He didn’t even know what he hoped to accomplish… perhaps having one over Dumbledore? “It doesn’t matter what I think. It only matters what you think.” At Potter’s look of confusion, Severus added, “Plausible deniability.” Seeing that any subtlety was lost on Potter, Severus sighed and told him, “The potion in the goblet is a placebo, Potter.” Potter blinked. “It means—.”

“I know what it means,” Potter interrupted, “but why?”

If Severus were to be honest with himself… it was because he could not bring himself to kill the one creature – or half-creature – that seemed to find something worthwhile in Severus Snape.

What he offered instead of the truth was, “I’m not in the habit of drugging people against their will. It goes well against the Hippocratic oath, even if Poppy Pomfrey seems to have forgotten hers.”

Potter smiled at Severus, eyes gleaming and crinkling in the corners like Lily’s would when her smile was more fondness than anything else. “Thank you, Professor,” he said softly. Severus handed him the potion. With a resolute nod, Potter downed it in one go.

Severus stared at him while his throat worked to push the potion down, wondering… It could have been poison. It could have strengthened Potter’s connection to the Dark Lord. It could have been any number of other very bad things that no one would be able to trace back to Severus. Potter didn’t think about any of this, or if he did, he didn’t appear to care. Such trust… It was not something Severus was accustomed to.

“If you ever change your mind, Mr. Potter,” he said, collecting the goblet, “I did brew the draught. I shall leave it in a cabinet to the side of my desk in my private office, under a stasis spell. I’ll change the wards to allow you inside under very specific circumstances.”

Potter nodded. “Thanks, Professor.”

Severus nodded once and turned to leave the room.

As he was leaving, Severus found himself drawing his wand, following some strange instinct. He pointed at the heavy-loaded tray in the corner where the remains of Potter’s dinner were waiting for the house-elves and Transfigured the glass into a pitcher. Another flick of his wand and a garland of white lilies bloomed into existence.

It was an odd thing what faith did to people. Not just that which is given, but that is which is placed upon oneself.

Sixteen years ago, Severus had made a mistake and had regretted ever since. Since then, he knew what his duty was and he knew what he would be called to do. And yet he hadn’t expected Dumbledore’s solemnity as he ordered his own murder a couple of weeks ago. Severus had never killed before, not directly at least. His only goals had long been to win the war and, if possible, to survive it long enough to die in peace.

Now perhaps, he had another one: make sure Potter got the chance he needed to do the first. And that meant someone on the inside. Someone with access. Someone like Severus. Harry’s trust had felt like a benediction. Severus would return the favor. And, because he hadn’t taken the potion, Potter would know.

When their eyes met through the glass wall, Harry’s flickered in gold for a moment, before turning to their usual color. In that moment, Severus Snape committed himself to Harry Potter and not Lily’s son.

 

“Harry!” Someone took his hand. “Harry, come on.” The smell of flowers told Harry that it was Ginny who had come for him. He let himself be pulled away from Dumbledore’s body, as McGonagall – her hair was down, she must have been retired to her quarters for sleep – and the other professors took charge. When Harry walked by, McGonagall squeezed his shoulder almost painfully.

Hermione and Ron were waiting for them, wearing twin faces of concern. It was the last drop for Harry. He broke free from Ginny and ran into the castle, down, down, ignoring his friends shouting for him, until he found himself in the dungeons. They knew nothing, none of them could know – but Harry, who could fell his despair echoed in the pit of four hundred souls, he knew enough.

Not a soul could be heard in the hallways, since all the students had been summoned to the Great Hall. Harry had probably just missed them. Moreover, the Slytherin common room was in the opposite direction from where Harry now stood, in the Potions Lab gallery.

The sterile, freezing air was enough to dispel the harmony of despair echoing inside Harry’s mind, leaving only seething anger in its place. Harry trembled all over, noticing with horror the soft fur, pitch black, growing on the backs of his hands; the nails growing into great talons… Abruptly, Harry closed his fists and hurried on.

How dare he? How dare he betray Hogwarts? Dumbledore? _Harry_?

Harry had trusted Snape!

So much despair and anguish. There was one presence in his mind who stood above all else, but Harry shut it out, unwilling to hear, and he let himself into Snape’s office. There was too much to do, too much at stake now for Harry to allow the possibility of a mistake… Why had he trusted Snape over Dumbledore? Before anything else, he needed to correct his mistake.

There was a cabinet to the left of Snape’s desk, just like Snape had said there would be. Inside, there was a lilac potion inside a crystal vial under a stasis spell. Harry could not afford to go against Dumbledore’s wishes anymore, so he downed the Draught of Safe Passage.

 

Severus was Dumbledore’s man to the end. So, he had to answer his master’s plea. “Severus, please.” Severus had drawn his wand and condemned himself.

The events of that fateful night haunted Severus’ dreams often in the year that followed. His only comfort as he fled was that Potter would know. Potter would reach out for him and know, know that Severus hadn’t had a choice. Potter would soon understand why Severus had become livid at being called a coward and he would understand.

Except that when Severus returned to his office after being appointed Headmaster, he found his private cabinet open. Only one person could have accessed it. Heart beating wildly, Severus opened the cabinet to find the crystal vial empty of its contents.

Betrayal gripped his heart tightly. Had Potter not even taken a moment to question Severus’ reasons? Severus had been in this place before. Like mother, like son.

It didn’t – shouldn’t, couldn’t – matter. Severus had a task to finish: to make sure Potter finished his. And so he must.

The next time they saw each other was in the Shrieking Shack.

 

III.

Severus Snape was true, had always been, so Harry went to die for him. Snape’s sacrifice should only be rewarded with equal devotion. So Harry walked into the Forbidden Forest. “I’m about to die,” he whispered to the Golden Snitch in his hand, just before reaching the clearing where Voldemort was waiting, and watched it open to reveal the Resurrection Stone. He turned the stone thrice in hand and sought comfort from those dearly departed.

Before facing his own demise, Harry turned back to his mum one last time. “Did you know he was a good man?”

With a sad shake of her head, Lily spoke, “I think he had misplaced his heart.”

That made a whole lot of sense to Harry, even though he couldn’t have explained it if asked.

It was with Mum and Dad, Sirius and Remus by his side that Harry walked into the clearing. There was a strange echo of despair following his own peaceful acceptance. Harry thought about Ron and Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna. He thought about the Weasleys and McGonagall and all those who would be left behind to finish what Harry had started. And he thought about Snape, dead in the Shrieking Shack. Who knew what they would do to his body? When Voldemort raised his wand, Harry didn’t fight back.

Harry certainly didn’t expect to wake up alone in the Forbidden Forest.

As fleeting as an afterthought, Harry had entertained the idea of Dumbledore knowing something, something he hadn’t shared, about what would happen to Harry when he met Voldemort. He had dismissed the thought as a dying man’s hope, but it seemed he was right.

In the distance, Harry could hear Voldemort address Hogwarts’ resistance, but he couldn’t register the words when he tried. His hearing was muffled. He opened his mouth to see if he could hear himself and no sound came out. Harry started to panic. He patted his body to check for injuries and cried out in silence when he saw his own hands… Pitch black, covered with feathers, and great talons instead of nails. All of a sudden, he knew as if he had always known.

Wizarding folk called them Masters of Death, even though there hadn’t been record of any such person for an age. In any case, it was more accurate to call them Stewards: guardians and guides, creatures born into their own fate. Creatures like Harry and Lily, who must fix pesky little things like Voldemort, who thought themselves above their rightful place. Who could have housed a Horcrux, but one of them? Who could have mastered all three Deathly Hallows, but one of them? Who greeted Death like an old friend?

Harry had wings now: great wings, much larger than his body. Harry tried to open them and found that he could. It was no different than reaching out his arm, which he ended up doing as reflex. Excitement was building up in his chest: it was all so exciting, so _exciting_! With a silent shout, Harry rose up into the skies and soared in the direction of Hogwarts.

There was a courtyard in Hogwarts at the base of the Astronomy Tower, where students, faculty and Death Eaters had gathered. Naturally, that was where Harry landed.

A mindless shout went through the crowd. There was confusion, fright and gleefulness.

There were a few signatures Harry knew as well as his own name: Hermione was reaching all the right conclusions, Ron asking all the right questions. Luna had always known, Neville hadn’t felt like he needed to, and still didn’t, and Ginny… Ginny was a bastion of hope, enough to shield those around her. McGonagall had settled for cursing Dumbledore’s existence, Hagrid for blessing it.

As for Voldemort… _Tom_. Tom Riddle, a student of the likes of Hermione, who knew more than most. Voldemort knew better and he knew what was coming for him. He looked livid. As he watched Voldemort’s wide eyes, Harry finally let out the pressure that was building in the back of his throat.

It was the first sound he had heard since waking up. A chant, as old as Time… as old as Death. A song of Safe Passage. A song of Death. His body was moving, but Harry wasn’t ordering it. He thought of Snape, lying in a pool of his own blood in the Shrieking Shack, unloved and forgotten, but not by Harry. What would he say if he saw Harry now?

Voldemort had crumpled to the floor with an inhuman scream, a scream of harpies… and it took Harry a while to realize it had come from himself. Judgment had been passed. And Voldemort was dead, his soul captured forever to pay for his dues, leaving only a broken body in its place, the body of a man who should have known better. The Earth stopped shaking and grass started growing where Harry stood, an omen of spring after the winter.

Harry slid to the ground, exhausted.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fleur Weasley step forward, but he shook his head. He had lost his humanity. He felt and knew more than he should, he could never touch anyone ever again. Not even fellow Veela. The Draught of Safe Passage would not help him now. Nothing could. Harry had become feral and his mate was dead.

Harry got up and stretched his wings. He would fly away and keep on flying until he forgot his own name.

“Potter?”

Harry started and took his eyes from the sky to see Snape approaching, aided by Ron. His wounds were still open, but they had stopped bleeding. There was an echo of disbelief coming from Snape, stronger than the hatred of the crowd standing on the steps of the castle. Harry made a low sound in his throat, wings moving restlessly.

Snape’s eyes shifted briefly to them, before coming back to Harry. “You called?”

Harry had, hadn’t he? Was that why Snape had come? Was this Harry’s reward? Harry nodded once and stepped closer, folding his wings neatly behind himself. Without taking his eyes off Snape, Harry followed this strange sort of instinct that was telling him to kneel and bend his head. Snape’s eyes widened and he tried to take a step back, but Harry caught his hand. He wanted to say please, but couldn’t speak, so instead he pled with his eyes.

Harry saw the moment Snape took pity on him… It was perhaps too much to ask of Snape, but Harry still asked. Snape reached forward with shaking hands, placing a hand on Harry’s hair. Gently, he plucked a single hair from Harry’s head.

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I had my wisdom teeth pulled while I was finishing this, so this story will forever be associated with pain and suffering in my mind… I also really enjoyed writing it! I think it is my first Creature!Fic, how awesome is that? A lot. For me, at least. ;) It features Snape, because I put Snape in everything I’m able to. I think I followed the letter of the prompt, but I might not have followed the spirit of it… (: My apologies for the liberties I took, I’ve added the appropriate warnings.
> 
> Lastly, I have successfully erected a shrine for the worship of [](http://glored13.livejournal.com/profile)[glored13](http://glored13.livejournal.com/), who not only accepted to beta-read for me, as she was kind enough to go the little extra mile in feedback and did it ~~hard and~~ fast… so, thank you! (Naturally, I did some last minutes changes, so those are on me.)
> 
> To everyone else, I hope you enjoyed! ♥


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